A Tale of Two Cousins
by Shibhon
Summary: Our two favourite cousins (Dom & Neal of course) progress through life to the age we know them now. Kicking and screaming all the way. (KD, eventually)
1. Two Little Boys

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except any part of the plot you don't recognize from the series. Otherwise, it's all Tamora Pierce's.  
  
A Tale of Two Cousins  
  
Queenscove:  
  
The air was filled with the sweet smells of summer and birds flitted to and fro amongst the trees. Young fawns wandered with their mothers through the tall meadow grass. The sky was a perfect blue, clear of all clouds. It was a bright, sunny, quiet morning, the dew still wet on the ground.  
"Yarghhhh!" A loud, human cry rent the air, followed by other grunts and snarls as two young boys wrestled each other down a hill, rolling over and over, hitting every rock and root on their descent.  
When they reached the bottom, neither 9 year old Domitan of Masbolle or 7 year old Nealan of Queenscove was really ready to take the other on, stumbling and watching as the world went topsy turvy before their eyes.  
"Everything's spinning!" cried Neal, falling to the ground in a heap. "This is all your fault!"  
"It is not! You started it!" Dom growled. He tried to aim a punch at Neal's stomach, but strained his shoulder and collapsed beside his cousin.  
Neal laughed, Dom being powerless to defend himself. For the rest of the morning, they gazed up at the clouds, hoping no one would call them back for lessons.  
  
And so begins a Tale of Two Cousins........ 


	2. The Affair of the Octopus

A Tale of Two Cousins  
  
The Affair of the Octopus  
  
"The body is a fascinating thing. Truly extraordinary. It's amazing the things it can do. For example, the wonder of the reflex. You hit your knee, the knee goes up: it reacts. Amazing! Spectacular! Fascinating! Who thought it all up?" I hit my knee again. It popped up, then went limp and fell back to the ground. "Isn't that fascinating Dom?"  
  
My cousin barely acknowledged me. He was too busy sharpening his knife. I frowned. Dom was so obsessed with weaponry and fighting. He would be able to become a page in just a couple month's time, when he turned ten. As long as I could remember, Dom had chosen the wooden sword over the wagon, the bow and arrow over the book. That I couldn't believe. Who in his right mind would choose a bow over a wonderful book, full of knowledge, just waiting to be picked up? Yes, Dom was insane. He was also ignoring me. I hopped off my chair and looked over his shoulder. "What're you doing?"  
  
"I'm sharpening my knife, dolt. What does it look like?"  
  
"It looks sharp enough to me."  
  
"Well, it's not. I have to get just the right edge."  
  
"Fascinating," I drawled.  
  
Dom paused and looked up at me. "Get bent." I raised my chin and stalked off. "Fascinating," I heard him mutter, "who ever heard of a seven year old saying fascinating?" I stiffened. That was seven and one sixth. Seven, I snorted. I was a whole 2 months older than that.  
  
I strode across the courtyard in a huff. The flowers were in full bloom, blanketing the gardens in fluttering seas of pink, blue and yellow. They reminded me of the dress Mirinda was wearing just the other day. Ahh, Lady Mirinda! I thought. The apple of my eye! She shall remain locked in my heart forever. Oh, does she know that one of her smiles can turn my heart over in my chest? Does she know that I worship the very ground she walks on? I burn, I pine, I perish! Ah, sweet, sweet Mirinda! True love has never been so strong! Wherever I go, I shall sing ballads of her beauty and my cries will echo through the hills: MIRINDA! I cannot bear one day without the warmth of her very presce-  
  
Lady Elthia passed by. No, glided. It seemed that the air beneath her feet obeyed her every whim, even lifting her off the ground to float just above it. She was the picture of grace. Oh, Lady Elthia! I thought. What beauty! What grace! She shall remain locked in my heart forever! I burn, I pine, I perish! Oh, does she know that one of her smiles can turn my heart over in my chest? Does she know that I worship the very ground she walks on? Ahh, sweet, sweet Elthia! True love has never been so strong!  
  
I followed her secretly for the rest of her walk. She stopped frequently to smell the flowers, a smile gracing her features as she straightened and brushed her fingers along their petals. "Oh, how I wish I were a flower," I whispered quietly, "so that she could caress me and whisper sweet nothings in my ear...."  
  
"I didn't think flowers had ears." I whirled around. Dom was crouched beside me behind the hedge, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, how I wish I were a flower!" he mocked, "Just think what Lady Elthia would say if she knew you were back here. Should I tell her, my little dandelion?" So, I was no longer a dolt. I had been elevated to 'dandelion'. Fascinating. "Oh, Lady Elthia!" Dom called. I clamped a hand over his mouth and yanked him backwards.  
  
"Don't call her! You'll ruin everything!"  
  
Dom brushed some moss off his tunic. "Ah, yes. If I called her, it would never be the same between you two. I'd ruin everything you have together. Lady Elthia, taking her morning walks, and you, stalking her through the bushes, just waiting for the moment she bends over so you can get a glimpse of her- oof!" I shut Dom up again with a punch in the stomach. We wrestled for a bit, but Dom eventually won. He was older, bigger, and had more experience. Dom gave me one last hit on the shoulder, the settled back against the hedge. I rubbed my arm, brooding silently.  
  
"Papa says Uncle Baird has a dinner meeting coming up," said Dom, as if I wasn't crouching fatally injured before him. Okay, maybe just gravely hurt.  
  
"Yeah." I was particularly proud that he would be able to attend this meeting. It was the first time I'd been able to go. My two older brothers went all the time, but 'little Nealan' always stayed behind in the nursery with Dom. Then, Dom left me, and I was all alone. He made quite a big deal out of it, really. Puffing out his chest and looking down his nose at me. That nose that was so much like mine. Honestly, I wouldn't have been so pompous had I been the older child. Really, I would never lord something over someone like that. I swear it upon Lord Wyldon's grave.  
  
I became insanely jealous and didn't speak to him for a month. Then, Dom just showed up at the door to my room one day and presented me with a thick, illustrated volume on immortals and an apologetic look on his face. I suppose Dom wasn't that bad in the end. He was just a real pain in the ass. Anyways, I was just learning my letters, and greatly appreciated the new material. Afterwards, my tutor said that I was a very promising student and had learned to read and write faster than any other child he had ever taught. I told him that he should have expected no less. After all, I was a Queenscove, one of the four pillars of-  
  
"Why are you staring off into space like that?" I snapped back into reality. Dom was giving me a curious look.  
  
"No reason."  
  
"Fantasizing about Lady Elthia's- "  
  
I punched him again, which provoked another wrestling match. Dom won. Again.  
  
_________________________________________________________________  
  
Dom and I watched the servants set the places. I was slightly more bruised than he was, but I'd gotten him in the groin and he seemed to be shifting a little uncomfortably. Ha ha! Hit him where it counts.  
  
Many important people were coming to the dinner. Alanna the Lioness, who was a personal friend of my father's, the lovely Lady Elthia, queen of the dawn and the rising sun, Colonel Milsa, who was quite a formidable character in war stories I'd heard. Apparently, he'd killed several spidrens with his bare hands in battle fever, frothing at the mouth. Not someone I was hoping to sit beside. I wanted to be placed near Elthia, so that I could smell her sweet scent and lean my cheek upon my hand and sigh, "Elthia!" Oh, how lovely her name sounds on my lips! Elthia!  
  
There were other, less important people who were coming to the dinner. Let them be awed by my unearthly, lilting voice, and my charming conversation, I thought. I straightened and disdainfully flicked an invisible speck of dust from the shoulder of my tunic. Dom noticed and chuckled. I didn't see what was so funny.  
  
Dom, having quieted, whispered, "Did you hear about Lord Agrue? He's coming tonight. I can't wait to see him again. Such a famous man."  
  
My eyes widened. "Really? Wow, what an honour."  
  
Dom frowned. "You've never heard of him, have you."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"He's one of the great military legends, Neal! How could you not have heard of him? Remember, he came to the last dinner and he said I had promise! He said I might be a commander someday!"  
  
I raised my chin. "I'm sorry. I was unable to attend the last dinner, and as you so readily deserted me..."  
  
"Oh, come on Neal! I thought we'd got past that."  
  
"Got past what? I don't have any idea what you are talking about."  
  
"Neal..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't be like this, Neal."  
  
"Be like what?"  
  
"You know what I'm talking about."  
  
"I'm sorry, no, I don't. Enlighten me."  
  
"Why do you keep using those big words? You're only seven."  
  
"I will use whatever words I want, cousin Domitan."  
  
"Oh, for Mithros' sake, now he's calling me Domitan."  
  
"Oh, did I disappear? You suddenly started talking like I wasn't here."  
  
"Forget it, Neal. You're being so immature."  
  
"I'm being immature!"  
  
"Goodbye, Neal."  
  
"Goodbye and good riddance."  
  
Dom came running back. "Hey, didn't you want to borrow my green tunic with the silver embroidery?"  
  
I looked up again. "Oh, yeah. Can you just bring it to my room around.... sixish? That way I can give you my blue tunic. You look good in blue. It's a tad too big for me anyway."  
  
"Thanks. See you tonight!"  
  
Dom and I get along so well.  
  
_________________________________________________________________  
  
I sat quietly in my chair with my hands folded neatly in my lap, resplendent in Dom's green tunic. He sat next to me in blue. He really did look good in blue. It matched his eyes. At the moment, he was deep in conversation with Lord Agrue. I listened for a moment: the uses of different types of arrowheads. Fascinating. Really.  
  
So far, I had been referred to as the "strapping young lad", and "handsome little tyke". To these I gave an slightly icy nod of acknowledgement. It was the polite thing to do.  
  
My gaze kept flitting to Lady Elthia, but she didn't really talk at all, or look up. She refrained from tasting the soup, on account of that she was using her soup spoon as a mirror she could check her hair in.  
  
Dom leaned in to comment on the spoon thing several times, but I refused to think that she was in the least bit arrogant or self-centred. She was simply using the spoon to reflect the scene behind her in case there were any assassins climbing through the windows. I praised her for thinking ahead and considering our safety. What a noble thing to do: sacrifice your soup to save the lives of others!  
  
Dom wasn't buying it.  
  
"So, Dom," began Agrue, "are you going to go to the palace to train for knighthood in the fall?"  
  
Dom started to look very uncomfortable. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for an answer. "Actually," he said shakily, "I've decided not to be a knight."  
  
Agrue looked taken aback. So did Dom's mother, Lady Ilia. The woman was pale and shocked. Obviously, she'd expected a different answer. "I am a younger son," added Dom quietly.  
  
Agrue settled back. "I suppose that's true." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "There's always the Queen's Riders, or the army, or the King's Own. By Mithros! You'd do well in the King's Own!" He then launched on a great tale about travelling with the Own through spidren infested land.  
  
Dom's mother, Ilia, relaxed a little. I knew what she was worried about. It wasn't the knighthood thing that upset her. Lady Ilia didn't want a layabout son that she would have under her feet for the rest of her life. She wanted Dom to make something of himself, not to hang on her purse strings. However, I had no doubt that Dom would succeed. He would be restless at home.  
  
After Dom's confession, things hit an all time low on the interest level. I was bored. Extremely bored. I needed something to interest me. If father were near, I could have talked to him about the state of healing supplies in the palace, or current weather conditions. However, he was sitting at the far end of the table, unreachable.  
  
Suddenly, I realized what I could do. I reached down to hit my knee again. The wonders of the human body! What a fascinating creation! Who thought it all-  
  
CRASH! SMACK!  
  
I had hit the table with my foot. Hard. A medium rare steak had plopped onto my head. Disaster ensued.  
  
Lady Elthia jumped to her feet and screamed at the top of her lungs. Why? There was salad in her perfect hairdo. She picked up her soup spoon and checked her reflection. An even louder scream. There was a tomato caught in her earring. She her arms flailed about in the air as she threw an impressive tantrum.  
  
At this point, I decided Elthia was not the woman for me.  
  
Meanwhile, my father also looked like he was having a tantrum. He seemed to be trying to rip his hair out as he gazed wide eyed at Colonel Milsa.  
  
Oh Goddess, I thought. The fried octopus.  
  
The thing was stuck right on his face, tentacles wrapped around the back of his head. It didn't look good. The man was frozen in his chair, his knuckles white as they gripped as they gripped the table. The wood was actually cracking under his fingers. Now I truly believed the stories: Milsa could definitely kill a spidren with his bare hands.  
  
He leapt up and began running round the room with his arms in front of him, colliding with braziers and stumbling the whole way.  
  
My father made spastic motions with his hands, waving over some serving men to help. Thus began a tug of war.  
  
First, there were two brawny serving men hauling away at Milsa's face. Dom was directing, and having a field day. He seemed to think this was all one big joke for his own amusement.  
  
"Heave! Ho! Heave! Ho- ha ha aha ha! Ooohooha ha aha ha! Ahhh.... Heave!"  
  
Then three serving men latched on. Then four, then 10, and then we ran out of serving men. Then we added on three cooks. Four. Six. Then we ran out of cooking staff. By the end, the chain had grown to immense size. All of our staff and most of the nobility. Dom was still laughing.  
  
"Heave! Ho ho ho! Aaaa ha ah aha aha! Oh, for Mithros' sake! This is... ha ha aha ah ha ha aha! Ha............. Heave!"  
  
The men all pulled back with all their might and there was a great squelching sound. The octopus slowly came off; little pops resounded through the hall as the suction cups came free.  
  
SNAP!  
  
As the octopus detached, the entire chain fell back like dominos, all on top of each other.  
  
Dom, unable to stand it anymore, collapsed onto the floor in hysterical laughter. Colonel Milsa was led whimpering off to the infirmary, his head shrouded in damp towels.  
  
My father disentangled himself from the mass of wriggling limbs and stood slowly. I watched in horror as his eyes settled on me. "Neal. My study. NOW."  
  
It was not a request. I shuffled off.  
  
_________________________________________________________________  
  
I walked from my father's study dragging my feet, tears streaming down my cheeks. I'd ruined everything. It was all my fault.  
  
Leaning heavily against the wall, I crumpled and sat on the cold ground, my head hanging miserably. I began to sob.  
  
There were soft footsteps coming down the hall. I buried my head in my arms, not wanting whoever it was to see my tears. I heard the steps stop in front of me.  
  
"Hey, Neal."  
  
It was Dom.  
  
"What do you want?" My voice had a slightly nasal sound. Great. Now Dom knew everything.  
  
"Just wondering if you were okay, that's all." He seemed a little embarrassed.  
  
"Well I'm fine! Just fine! Go away!"  
  
"Neal, you know, it's not that bad."  
  
"How do you know? You have no idea what it's like."  
  
"Well, I went through something like that at my first dinner."  
  
I looked up. Impossible. Dom was the perfect one. He never ever made a mistake. Everyone loved him. I wiped my nose with my sleeve. "Like what?"  
  
Dom hunkered down beside me. "Well, you see, I had this frog that I'd caught earlier that day. I was real proud of her. She was a beauty."  
  
I sniffed. I had no interest in frogs. I wished Dom would just get on with the story.  
  
"But I didn't have anyone to watch her while I went to the dinner. You didn't like frogs. So I took her with me in my tunic.  
  
"Anyway, you can guess what happened. She somehow slipped out of my shirt and into Queen Thayet's salad."  
  
My eyes widened. The Queen?  
  
"Needless to say, when Her Majesty tried to eat her salad, she stabbed my frog with her fork, and she jumped all over the table. Into the punch, the strawberry short cake, the Lioness's hair, down the King's boot, and then she disappeared. Of course, she was discovered later in the meal, hiding in the wine jug. You should have seen all the finest blood of the nobility, spitting and spluttering. The entire table was covered in wine and partially chewed food. Then, my dear hopping beauty disappeared again."  
  
"Where did she go?"  
  
Dom grinned wickedly. "Into the breakfast pudding!"  
  
Dom and I talked and laughed for a while, and I cheered up. It wasn't the end of the world. And I guess it was a little bit funny.  
  
Dom reached into my hair and pulled a bit of the steak I'd used for a hat earlier on. He shook his head at me. "Meathead." 


	3. Apple Pie Only Brings Trouble

Apple Pie Only Brings Trouble  
  
"Okay! Now, bring it across in one fluid stroke! Block position! Block! I said BLOCK! Watch it, Meathead!"  
  
Neal rubbed his arm where Dom's wooden sword had struck him. Dom winced. He hadn't meant to swing so hard. He'd thought Neal would block the attack.  
  
"Mithros, Meathead! Don't you remember anything I taught you?"   
  
Neal shot him a dark look. Dom gulped guiltily. He sure wasn't an encouraging teacher. Sighing, the dark-haired boy set his resolve and gave it another try.  
  
"Okay, ready position." Neal raised his sword correctly, his arms loose and languid. Dom smiled. At least he'd learned something right.  
  
He took the first swing. Neal's sword was knocked right out of grip. A frown crossed Dom's smooth features. Correction, Neal hadn't learned anything right.  
  
"Where'd my sword go?" Meathead was standing up straight, scratching his head in the perfect picture of comical ignorance.  
  
"It's over there, Meathead."  
  
"Oh. How'd it get over there?"  
  
"I knocked it right out of your hands."  
  
"Well, what'd you do that for?"  
  
"You need to keep your grip a bit more firm, Meathead, so the sword doesn't go flying away all the time."  
  
"Well, sooorry, Mr Know-it-all." Neal went over to retrieve the weapon. Twirling it in his hands, he made his way to stand before Dom again. "You know, you really need to switch nicknames for me. 'Meathead' is starting to get on my nerves. I don't think I could stand it for the rest of my life."  
  
"Don't worry, I'll think up something new. Ha ha! Just thinking about that night makes me laugh."  
  
"Shut up. Change my nickname. I refuse to be married as 'meathead'."  
  
"Why not? I think it would look spiffing on the wedding invitations!"  
  
"Oh, come on, Dom! Why can't you just call me Neal, like everyone else does?"  
  
"Because, dearest cousin of mine, I'm not everyone else. Hmm. I smell apple pie. Care to have a look?"  
  
All thoughts of argument immediately left their minds as they trotted off to the kitchens, wooden swords lying forgotten in the dust.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
A perfect, golden apple pie was sitting on a window sill, its heavenly aroma wafting through the air like the scent of sweet ambrosia. The alluring scent drew to the sill two young boys, salivating as they gazed up at the unattainable.  
  
"That pie's for grandpa," whispered Dom.  
  
"Hmm-mm."  
  
"We shouldn't touch it."  
  
"Uh-uh."  
  
"But it does smell really good."  
  
"Hmm-mm."  
  
"Grandpa wouldn't mind if we just took a little slice, right?"  
  
Neal grinned. "We are, after all, his favourite grandsons."  
  
Dom frowned. "I thought my older brother Dominic was Grandpa's favourite..."  
  
"What I mean is, Dom, we have an allowance, cause we're family."  
  
"Well, why didn't you say that in the first place, Meathead?"  
  
"Don't call me Meathead!"  
  
Dom cupped a hand to his ear comically. "I'm sorry, what was that, MEATHEAD?"  
  
"Stop calling me Meathead!"  
  
"Speak up, Meathead, I can't hear you."  
  
Neal grabbed Dom by the shoulders and shook him violently. "Dom, quit it! I'm sick of Meathead, alright?!!!!!"  
  
Dom's eyes were wide as he stared at his cousin, his hair disheveled and hanging in his face. "Why are you shouting?" he asked, in shock.  
  
Neal was about to swing in with his right when he noticed something that neither he nor Dom had noticed before.  
  
Following Neal's dumbfounded gaze, Dom also noticed the something.  
  
The pie was gone.  
  
"How is this possible?" whispered Neal.  
  
"I don't know, Meathead. I just don't know."  
  
Neal turned to Dom. "Shall we admit defeat?"  
  
Dom's expression was grim. "Never."  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
A peaceful scene. Nothing out of the ordinary. A courtyard in a grand house, servants scurrying to and fro, women singing as they scrubbed at the morning's laundry. It was a sunny day, a day perfect for frolicking in fields and fishing by a stream. It was also a day, one might say, for mischief. However, as was stated before, there was nothing out of the ordinary in this lovely morning scene in a perfectly ordinary courtyard. Completely ordinary. None of the men had any strange defects, or babbled to themselves endlessly. None of the women's eyes twitched, nor did they display any unnatural animal habits, such as barking or scratching their ears with their feet. Well, except one. Other than that, everything was ordinary. Perfectly ordinary. Unless, of course, you counted the two reed baskets that suddenly jumped up and sauntered into the kitchens of their own accord. In fact, you could call that rather out of the ordinary. However, everyone was far too busy being ordinary to notice. After all, when one is in the ordinary, one can hardly see what goes on out of the ordinary, as everything that one is used to when in the ordinary is never out of the ordinary, so something out of the ordinary would only be considered ordinary simply because it was being seen in the ordinary. Nonetheless, the walking baskets were hardly concerned with what the people in the ordinary thought, as they were out of the ordinary and had much better things to do.  
  
"How are we supposed to see in these things?" said basket No. 1.  
  
"You gotta peak through the little holes in the sides, see?" answered basket No. 2.  
  
"No, I can't see. I thought that was the point of my asking how I was supposed to see!" growled basket No. 1.  
  
"Well there's nothing I can do about it, is there?" hissed basket No. 2 in a warning tone.  
  
"Shut up! Someone's coming!" whispered basket No. 1.  
  
The two baskets stopped in their tracks, flipped over, and snapped their lids shut, just before two brawny looking men rounded the corner. Unfortunately for the baskets, the new comers were not the sharpest tools in the shed.   
  
"Last one, mate! I thought them baskets would never stop comin'!"  
  
"Aye! Duke's orchards are huge! You wouldn't believe how they are in't spring! It's loike a giant sea o' blossoms!"  
  
"Oi! Wait a minute! What's those over there?"  
  
"No! I can't believe this! I thought we'd got 'em all!"  
  
"Well, come on! Let's get these on the cart. After, we'll go down t'the kitchens and get ourselves a noice, cold ale!"  
  
"Oi'd loike that!"  
  
The baskets were lifted bodily from the ground.  
  
"Aren't these a little light fer apples?"  
  
"Shut it and 'urry up! I'm hankering fer that ale!"  
  
"All roight! No need ta get touchy!"  
  
Before long, the two burly men who were hankering for an ale had loaded basket No. 1 and basket No. 2, filled with suspiciously light contents, into a cart filled with other baskets, which were filled with apples, which were filled with, well, the apples weren't really filled with anything except apple. They strapped them down tightly with strong cords, so tightly that when they pulled them fast, the muscles on their arms strained and stood out. The two burly men yelled "Yahoi!" to the driver of the cart filled with baskets filled with apples filled with apple, and the driver did what he had been doing for many summers: drive.  
  
"Let's go get ourselves that ale, eh?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
"The Duke's gonna be real happy we got the loading done so soon!"  
  
"Aye. He'll probably give us a noice juicy bonus, mate!"  
  
"Hey, you seen young Master Nealan about?"  
  
"Naw, not since this mornin'. Why?"  
  
"Bella bin askin' me where he went, is all."  
  
"Probably gettin' inta trouble wid 'is cousin, loike he always is." 


	4. Meet the Masbolles

A/N: Okay. This has got to be my favourite chapter that I've written in this fic so far. Hope you like it. Also, do you think I should include the plot of "Several Days of Aggravating Occurrences" in the storyline? Or should I make up something new? Please give me feedback. PLEASE!  
  
Meet the Masbolles  
  
Sir Dominic of Masbolle was a venerable fief holder, one the tenants looked up to, and other nobles envied. He was respected by his superiors, and his opinions were valued in conference and discussion. He had kept his fief in very good shape during his 20 years as the lord of Masbolle. Sir Dominic was an admirable character in court, and was known for his honesty and good judgement. He was a free spirit at dances and dinner parties, always the one with the most interesting conversation and the wittiest retorts. Yes, he was a man to respect, which was why no one cared to bother him in the naming of his children.  
  
His first child was a boy, who was automatically named Dominic. No one judged him on this, as it was common for the eldest son to be named in honour of his father. Young Dominic was a strong lad, a good boy, everyone said, to take responsibility of the fief when Dominic the Elder died.   
  
His next child was a daughter. She was pretty with golden hair, born three years after her older brother. People said she would be very popular at court, and most likely draw in very admirable suitors. She was polite and composed, and smiled in the barest of ways. She was hailed as the most beautiful girl in all of Masbolle. But the tenants did whisper a bit when Sir Dominic gave his daughter her name: Dominique. But they settled down, as it was also common for the feminine form of the father's name to be used in the naming of his eldest daughter.  
  
It was when his third child was born that people began to exchange glances. A girl, this time. She was dark, like her mother, and had slightly less grace than her older sister. She liked to read, and star gaze. She took up archery and riding, but she seldom used her bow, and her saddle grew dusty as the outdoors lost its attraction. She was interested in political affairs and international relations. She bored the tenants with her endless drawl about the disasters in the Copper Isles, and the latest scandal in Scanra. Of all Dominic's children, she was the least liked. People chuckled at her naming feast. Her name was Domitiana.  
  
By the fourth child, people were beginning to groan in anticipation of his naming day. The boy took most after his father, it was said. He had a face made for smiling, and sparkling blue eyes with a strange warmth in them. He was witty and charming, and it almost made up for his being a younger son, and not the heir to the fief. He was well liked, even by his cool elder siblings, and managed to get a laugh out of them once or twice. No one bothered to laugh, or chuckle, or even cringe when it was announced that his name was Domitan.  
  
Besides creating a collective public belly laugh, Dominic's naming of his children also made other problems. For instance, all four of them were nicknamed Dom, as well as Dominic himself, and so whenever anyone called for "Dom", five heads would simultaneously poke out of five doors. It took quite a while each time to figure out who had been called and for what. When a crime was committed, the children would confess that "Dom" did it without really confessing anything at all. When Lady Ilia wanted a family meeting, she would simply ask the servants to fetch the "Doms" and then sit back and wait for her husband and children to waltz into the room as if nothing was at all out of the ordinary.  
  
It was on one of these evenings when Dominic the Elder noticed that something was not right. He leaned forward in his high-backed chair, surveying the sitting room. Dominic had come home, accompanied by his knightmaster. At 17 years old, he would be going for his Ordeal in Corus soon. Right now, he was sitting quietly on the couch, reading an old battered volume on something Sir Dominic would be bored by. Dominique was playing with kittens on the rug in front of the fire, that slight smile gracing her lips. Domitiana was engaged in a heated conversation with Dominic's knightmaster, Sir Granen, on the need for an established and respectable form of government in Scanra. Really much too complicated for a twelve year old. Sir Dominic sat upright suddenly in his chair.  
  
"Where's Dom?" he asked.  
  
"Over here by the fire, father!"  
  
"I'm just here papa! What do you think about Scanra?"  
  
"I'm reading. Would you like to take a look?"  
  
Dominic shook his head. "No, no no! Where's your younger brother?"  
  
"I dunno."  
  
"Couldn't care less."  
  
"Probably getting into trouble."  
  
Sir Dominic frowned deeply. "Is he still at Queenscove with Neal?"  
  
Dominique yawned. "Oh, maybe. He was supposed to be home today."  
  
"Where is the brat?" Dominic closed his book and looked around, as if expecting to see his brother pop out of nowhere. "He's getting into trouble."  
  
Dominique put down a kitten and glanced warily about the room. Things weren't right when the mischief-maker of the family disappeared. "He better not be in my room."  
  
"Maybe he took my horse out for a joy ride," Domitiana offered, deciding that Scanra would have to wait.  
  
"I hope he did! I feel sorry for any horse of yours! You never give poor Patches any exercise."  
  
"I do so, Dominique!"  
  
"Oh, please! When was the last time you took him for a ride?"  
  
"Just... just yesterday."  
  
"Prove it."  
  
"I don't have to prove it!"  
  
Dominic the Younger sighed. "Dom didn't take Dom's horse since Dom already has his own horse."  
  
Once everyone had absorbed that and worked it out, there was a collective "OOOOh."  
  
Sir Dominic, who was very protective of all his children, stood up and brushed off his breeches. "Come on. Dom and Dom, you search the lower floors, and Dom, you come upstairs with me."   
  
Everyone blinked, shrugged, and went on their way, leaving a very confused Sir Granen to sit alone in the sitting room, since sitting is what sitting rooms are for.  
  
Sir Granen picked up the volume his squire had been reading and waited for them to return. After a short while, he heard their voices calling out for the lost member of the Masbolle family.  
  
"Dom! DOM!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Not YOU! Dom!"  
  
"Oh."  
  
"DOM!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Oh, for Mithros' sake!"  
  
"DOM!"  
  
"I'm RIGHT HERE!"  
  
"DOM!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"OH, SHUT UP!"  
  
After much searching and some name calling and scuffling, it became apparent that the particular Dom being searched for was not at home. They regrouped in the sitting room. Sir Granen gave them all an unreadable stare, then walked out of the room.  
  
Sir Dominic the Elder stood in front of the fire like a general. "Alright. If anyone would like to offer information about the whereabouts of Dom, please speak now." Before anyone could open their mouths, he held up a finger. "And by "Dom", I do not mean anyone in this room, I mean the youngest child in this family, Domitan. Is that clear?"  
  
Nod, nod.  
  
"Alright then. If you have anything to say, please raise your hand in a polite and composed manner. You may raise the entire hand, or, if you like, you may raise a single finger. That is your pointer finger, not your middle finger." Domitiana rolled her eyes. "If you would like to wiggle it a bit, that is acceptable. However, there will be no "Ooo! Ooo!"s or "Me! Me!"s while your hand is raised. Also, there will be no sabotaging of others that wish to speak. You know what that means. No exaggerated waving that might "accidentally" injure another participant." Dominic the Younger put on an innocent look. "No sudden, heavy leaning. No tragic limb spasms. None of you have any strange wasting diseases that may get you your say first. And please, children, no garbled speech, gibberish, or pig latin." Dominique muttered something under her breath. "The family conference begins..... now."  
  
Dominic stood first. "I would like to say, father, that Dom is missing."  
  
Dominique rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Sir Obvious."  
  
An icy glare was directed at Dominqiue.  
  
Dominic sighed. "Continue, Dominic the Younger."  
  
"Thank you, father. Ahem. I suggest that since the place of residence Dom was last heard from is Queenscove, one of us should take a little trip round the bend, and see if our little brother is there. Even if he's leaving now, we'll meet him on the road. Is that clear to everyone?"  
  
Sir Dominic chuckled. "Dom, you may one day lead this fief, but for now you have to hear what everyone else has to say." His comment brought forth a blush on his son's cheeks.  
  
Dominique rolled her eyes. "I weep for the future."  
  
Domitiana grinned maliciously as she and her sister shared one of their rare moments of fellowship.  
  
"Now, now, my cruel hearts, do you have any better ideas?" Both girls looked at their feet. "Well, then, who's going to ride to Queenscove?"   
  
Silence. The day had started out sunny and bright, but had now changed to a dull gray as rain poured from the heavens. Nobody wanted to go out looking for their annoying adolescent brother in THAT.  
  
"What, isn't there a sense of protectiveness for the youngest member of our family?"  
  
Silence. A kitten hacked on a hairball.  
  
Dominique cleared her throat and everyone turned to stare at her, knowing that she was the one with the coolest thinking and the quickest mind. "I think Dominic should go, as he is the eldest, and would have an increased sense of protectiveness for all of us. So he must be just itching to get out there, aren't you, Dom?"  
  
Silence. All heads turned to the sullen squire shooting death glares at his sister.   
  
It only seemed to encourage her. "Well, Dom?"  
  
Dominic looked wildly around the room, searching for an escape. "But..." Everyone was staring at him expectantly. Finally, he stiffened and raised his chin.   
  
"I refuse to go out in the pouring rain to look for my pipsqueak brother!"  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Dominic the Younger, soon to be Sir Dominic the Younger, sniffed and pulled his cloak tighter around him, for all the good it did. Rainwater was streaming steadily down the back of his neck and into his shirt. He kicked his horse into a trot.  
  
"I'm denouncing my family. Inheritance or not." 


	5. Out of the Basket

A/N: I am sincerely sorry for being lazy and not writing anything for a REALLY LONG TIME, and I am also sincerely sorry that this is all I have to give you. It is filled with nonsense and silliness, and you will certainly not learn any life lessons. Prepare for disappointment.

Out of the Basket

As the cart trundled along, Neal listened with growing annoyance to the cart driver's off key rendition of "the Rain man" (to which Dom provided the appropriate echoes), pushed futilely at the lid of his basket, and contemplated a suitable method of murdering his cousin. After having been trapped in his reed prison for who knows how long, he was completely soaked and shivering, and his cramped limbs were beginning to protest their prolonged confinement. On top of all that, Neal really didn't see how all of this could possibly end with apple pie.

All in all, it was a truly horrible situation.

Back to an efficient method of murder, decapitation was always a good choice. But what to use for the actual act, now that was a problem. The cart driver interrupted his thoughts.

"Clouds rollin' in, the _Raiiin_ man's a coming!"

"The _Raaiin_ man's a coming!" echoed Dom (it had become apparent during the first hour of their little outing that the cart driver was near stone deaf, so he didn't mind if Dom joined in his song).

"Lighting flashes and _thun_der starts a drumming!"

"_Thun_der starts a drumming!"

"Dom, if you do that one more time, I am going to throttle you!"

Dom laughed. "What's wrong with a little song to pass the time?"

"You're annoying me."

"The cart driver doesn't find it annoying."

"He's deaf. He can't hear you squalling around back here like I can."

"Hey! I happen to have a fine singing voice, thank you very much."

"Yes, like an angel, Dom"

"I've always thought so."

"Dom, I've known crows that could sing better than you."

"You just said I sang like an angel!"

"It's called sarcasm, Dom, and I'm sure you are VERY familiar with it."

"It's not the insults that wound me, Meathead, it's the lying."

"Oh, stuff it."

"The _RAAAIIIN_ MAN!" crooned the driver.

"_RAINN_ man!" chirped Dom.

Neal seethed, feeling an actual, physical need in his bones to have his clenched fist connect with Dom's jaw. "Dom, I swear, you were sent by the Gods to torment me!"

"At last, my life has a purpose."

At that point Neal tried to claw his way through the reeds of his basket to throttle Dom. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in breaking his nails and skinning his knuckles. At last, he became tired and slumped against the wall of his basket. "Dom, I hate you."

"Really? 'Cause I just LOVE you!"

Neal muttered darkly the rest of the way.

* * *

Duke Baird looked up as a decidedly soggy Dominic the Younger trudged into his hall, the sounds of thunder rumbling and echoing off the stonework without the muting effect of the thick oaken doors. The heavy thud of the lock sliding back into place nearly drowned out the sound of the storm as the drooping young man finally squished and squashed his way over to his uncle and looked up at him miserably, sighing in resignation to his saturated state.

"My dear Uncle," Dominic began in that very polite and courtly manner of his that didn't quite seem to match his sodden hair and dripping cloak, "I trust you and all the family are well."

Wanting very much to get the poor lad a fresh suit of clothes and a hot mug of soup, but knowing that this would be seen as unacceptable until the little niceties and hems and haws that Dominic was so fond of were finished, the Duke nodded solemnly and said, "We are all quite well, thank you, Dominic. All at Masbolle are in good health as well, I hope."

"Yes. Thank you for your gracious concern, Uncle."

"It is nothing, nephew." Baird was about to continue with the appropriate follow ups, but winced at the squishing sound of his nephew's boots as he shifted on his feet. "Mithros, let's get you into some dry clothes! Whatever possessed you to come nancing over here in this foul weather?"

In no time, the boy was hustled out of his wet clothes and he related his sad tale as he sat waiting for a suitable replacement by the fire, wrapped inblankets and sipping daintily at a cup of soup. "Honestly," continued Baird, "you share the same foolish sense of chivalry that runs rampant in my own children." He turned to his three year old daughter, Anadia, sitting primly at her cousin's feet. "It's your mother's side of the family, I tell you! They were always ones for this sort of thing, not the Queenscoves, and certainly not in Masbolle!" She blinked at him over her half eaten strawberry tart, then giggled. Baird smiled back.

"Would Neal know where Dom was?" Dominic asked.

"I don't know," yawned Baird, scratching at his beard. "It's funny. I don't think I've seen the boy since this morning. Have you seen Neal, Ana?"

The little girl blinked again, then shook her head vigorously, making the carefully curled and pinned locks bounce and swing. She giggled.

Duke Baird frowned, and after spending the next quarter of an hour searching for the boy,it finally became apparent that both boys were in fact missing, thus sending the entire household into panic. Every room of the house was searched from top to bottom, and cries of 'Neal! Neeeal!' and 'Dom if you don't come out right now I'm going to flay you alive!' (that was Dominic, naturally) echoed throughout the house.

Though at first, Dominic had seemed rather indifferent as to whether they ever found his brother, or 'hellspawn', as he liked to call him, after hours of combing the area for him, he actually began to show a few signs of concern, signs that suggested he might actually shelter some affection for his brother. A slightly wrinkled brow. A small contortion of his mouth at one corner. Everyone agreed: Dominic the Younger was in quite a state.

By nightfall, every nook and cranny had been thoroughly searched, every cushion flung awry, every wardrobe and closet and pantry thrown wide open, but not hide nor hair of an adolescent boy was found.

* * *

As Neal muttered, he heard Dom shifting around in his basket, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Neal's basket was jostled as Dom squirmed, his elbows and knees straining against the reeds as he struggled. Finally, the movement stopped.

"Great," sighed Dom "now I'm upside down."

Neal let his head fall back against the wall of his basket.

"Uh, Neal?"

"Yes, Dom?"

"I'm stuck."

Neal spent the next twenty minutes being jarred and shoved again whilst Dom righted himself. "Whoo! Well, that was an experience. I won't try that again!" gasped Dom, trying to regain his breath.

"I should hope not."

"Are you mad at me, Neal?"

"Why would I be mad at you, Dom, of _ALL_ people?"

"_Ooo_, you're mad at me."

"Well, what do you expect, Dom? We're stuck on a cart of apples going who knows where, its raining, I'm soaked, I'm starving, and my limbs are going numb from", Neal's mind groped desperately for the word he wanted, "stationaryism! And, last of but certainly not least, this was all your idea, and therefore your fault!"

"Well if you're going to play the blame game..."

"I'm playing the blame game!"

The was silence for a while, then, "Is stationaryism even a word?"

"IT IS NOW!"

"Okay," squeaked Dom.

* * *

Sir Dominic gazed hopelessly out the window, wishing sincerely that Dom was simply staying the night in Queenscove and hadn't run into the forest to be devoured by flesh-eating monkeys. Of course, Dominic didn't really believe that his son would actually be devoured by flesh-eating monkeys. If he was going to be devoured by anything, it would probably be a pack of vicious man-eating wolves.

Dominique sighed and dangled a string of yarn for a kitten. She liked to think that she didn't care whether Dom the youngest came back or not, but, really, it was better to have a brother around whose conversation had a higher interest level than watching plants grow. Sure, Dom could be a sarcastic little wretch, but he was a constant source of amusement, and that was enough to earn some degree of sisterly love from Dominique.

Domitiana, however, would rather burn her entire collection of Yamani prose and poetry than spend five minutes conversing with her brother, and had become quite bored with the entire affair.

Dominic perked up as a cart trundled through the gates through sheets of rain. "I should go ask if the driver's seen Dom or Dom on the road."

"Oh, don't bother," Domitiana groaned, "it's too late for them to have passed each other anyway. Honestly, this whole situation is getting old. He's probably just doing this for attention, you know. The 'neglected younger son' thing. But going _'missing'_, it's so melodramatic. He's probably hiding in the kitchen eating pastries or something with Neal while the whole household goes up in a frenzy."

Sir Dominic left to consult the cart driver.

Domitiana huffed and went back to her book.

* * *

As it turned out, though, Sir Dominic probably should have taken Domitiana's advice, since the cart driver was ridiculously hard of hearing. "Have you seen a boy, about this high, on the road anywhere?"

"WHAT?" The cart driver stuck a finger in his ear and squinted at him.

"I SAID, HAVE YOU SEEN A BOY ON THE ROAD?"

"WHAT?"

"_HAVE YOU SEEN ANY BOYS ON THE ROAD?_"

The man was insulted. "Oh, no sir, I'm not THAT type" He shuffled away toward stables with his nose in the air, looking extremely offended.

Sir Dominic sighed miserably and made his way back to his study, fretting, and certainly not looking forward to the 'I told you so' he was going to get from Domitiana.

* * *

Sir Granen hated Masbolle. Oh, sure, the people were nice enough, the household cooks were wonderful, and Lady Ilia was the perfect hostess, but, to be honest, the name thing was really starting to get to him. Everywhere he went, there were constant cries of "Dom!", "Come here, Dom!", "Dom!", "STOP THAT DOM!". Sometimes he would be asked to fetch Dom, and, not knowing which Dom to fetch, he always fetched the wrong one, and was chided for being a terrible fetcher, and was sent off again to fetch 'Dom', only to come back with the wrong one again. "No, Sir Granen, I asked for Dom, not DOM!"

If he didn't get out of there soon, he was going to lose his mind.

He had taken refuge from the Dom's in the kitchen. It was late, so the cooks had all left, and the only one left was the lone knight, sitting at the counter eating apple pie. It was quite delicious, and the apples were fresh, having just been brought in today. He was looking forward to the apple delights they would be sure to enjoy on the morrow for breakfast, since there were plenty more baskets of apples there. It almost made up for everything else.

He was about to take another bite when he heard a rustle behind him. Cautiously, he turned, fork in mouth, and narrowed his eyes at two reed baskets in the corner, shaking with what seemed like a life of their own. One of the lids popped open and a young boy with dark hair hopped out, dazedly examining his surroundings while his companion fell over in his basket and had to struggle out, a few pieces of straw stuck in his hair.

Sir Granen put down his fork and turned in his chair to look at them. "Well, who are you?" he asked, suspecting that he really had begun to lose his mind.

The dark haired boy looked startled for a second, then grinned. "Who, me? I'm Dom."

Sir Granen smiled a little too wide. "Of course you are. And I expect your name is Dom as well?"

The other boy, who had only just escaped the clutches of the basket, blinked cluelessly.

"Of course it is. Well, that's it for me. I'm leaving. I sincerely wish both you boysa very nice evening. Goodbye."

He got up, quickly heading to his room to pack his bags, and left that very hour.

Dom and Neal watched him go until a certain scent caught their noses.

"Hey, Meathead, do you smell what I smell?" Dom grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yes I do, Dom."

They sat down at the kitchen table and tucked into the fresh apple pie.

* * *

Sir Dominic, Domitiana and Dominique were making their way across the hall when Dominic the Younger burst through the doors, soaked to the skin and shivering like a puppy left out in the cold. "He's not at Queenscove," he announced, dripping miserably.

Sir Dominic's shoulders drooped visibly at this news, which made Dominic the Younger feel even worse than he looked. Domitiana patted her father's shoulder awkwardly as Dominique gave him a comforting hug, and then suggested that they all go down to the kitchen where it was warm for some apple pie. They'd all feel better then.

Slowly, the group trudged down to the kitchen, all looking withered with exhaustion and worry, except for Domitiana, who was just plain annoyed.

Of course, that all changed when they opened the kitchen doors to find Domitan and Neal sitting at the counter wolfing down apple pie without a care in the world.

Dom looked up in mid-chew. "Oh, hello father, honoured siblings."

Silence.

"Would you like some apple pie?" asked Neal politely.

"I AM GOING TO _KILL_ YOU!" roared Dominic the Younger, the veins standing out in his neck as he reached for his brother. It resulted in a merry chase around the kitchen counter, Neal watchedwith delightas he shoveled pie into his mouth.

Domitiana also took a slice for herself, giving her father a shrug"I told you, but would you listen to me? _Noooo_..."

"I RODE ALL THE WAY TO QUEENSCOVE AND BACK IN THE RAIN LOOKING FOR YOU AND YOU'RE IN HERE STUFFING YOUR FACE! YOU WON'T LIVE TO SEE ANOTHER SUNRISE, YOU HELLSPAWN!"

"Oh, and by the way, my venerable brother," Dom cut in smoothly, dodging a flying fist nimbly and leaping up on the counter top, "did you know that your knightmaster just departed?"

Dominic came to a full stop. "What?"

"He left about half an hour ago."

"WHY?"

"I don't know, he was here, and then he left."

"Without me?"

Dom glanced at his father. "Well, yeah."

Dominic was about to make a grab for Domitan's throat when Sir Dominic decided it was time to intervene. "Dom, you'd better be off after your knightmaster before he forgets he has a squire."

Dominic looked at a loss for a moment, then straightened, muttered, and headed toward the door. Before he went, he paused and pointed a finger at his brother, hissing venemously, "If my lord hadn't mysteriously disappeared from the house in a torrential downpour, you would so be getting it." He stalked out of the kitchen.

"Bye Dominic! I love you, too!" cried Domitan as he waved, then added as an afterthought, "Hugs and kisses!"

Neal rolled his eyes and threw an apple at Dom's forehead.

"Ow!"

Bullseye.

Sir Dominic cuffed both Dom's and Neal's ears lightly and growled a few warnings about not disobeying parents and not getting lost and always notifying authority figures about where one is going before one goes to the place which one has notified the authority figures that one is going.

Then, the whole family went to say goodbye to Dominic, leaving Dom and Neal behind in the kitchen since it was decided that it might be better if they weren't present to set Dominic off again.

"Well," Dom said, patting his stomach, "that was quite the day."

"Yes it was."

"Do you think Dominic is going to forgive me soon?"

"The odds are slim."

"Oh well, he was never my favourite brother anyway."

"Dom, he's your only brother."

"Oh, and because I only have one means I can't have favourites? That's ridiculous."

Neal shrugged and took another bite of pie.

"Well, Meathead," Dom said,smiling a superior smile, "I think this is the time for your apology."

"My apology?"

"Yeah, this was all part of the plan all along, you know. And here we are, eating apple pie. Oh ye of little faith!"

"Yes. I'll never doubt you again, Dom."

"I should think so."

The room was filled with the sound of chewing and the scraping of fork on plate.

Dom looked up at Neal again. "You were being sarcastic again, weren't you"

"Me? _Neeeever_."


End file.
